


Peter Parker Is A Terrible Roommate

by aebirdie



Series: happy spideytorch [2]
Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel, Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Bi Peter Parker, M/M, Peter is dumb, gay johnny storm, guns?, mentions of violence but not a lot, roommate au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 10:50:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20062819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aebirdie/pseuds/aebirdie
Summary: Andrew was…nice. In like, a normal person sort of way. So nice he was boring. Way too boring for Johnny, Peter thought. He wore glasses with thick square frames and read books, all the time. Sometimes, Peter would come back to his and Johnny’s apartment and Andrew would be sitting on their couch, reading a thick book with his dumb glasses on.And then there wasFrankie, who actually went by Frankie. Peter really didn’t like Frankie, mainly because he seemed like one of those white guys who dropped the n-word on Call of Duty because no one knew they weren’t black.But Johnny had other boyfriends, and Peter had liked them well enough, so he wasn’t homophobic.Right?





	Peter Parker Is A Terrible Roommate

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! this is based off of the "straight guy worries he's being homophobic to gay roommate, realizes that he's in love with gay rooommate" story on reddit. i hope you like it!!

Andrew was…nice. In like, a normal person sort of way. So nice he was boring. Way too boring for Johnny, Peter thought. He wore glasses with thick square frames and read books, all the time. Sometimes, Peter would come back to his and Johnny’s apartment and Andrew would be sitting on their couch, reading a thick book with his dumb glasses on.

And then there was _Frankie_, who actually went by Frankie. Peter really didn’t like Frankie, mainly because he seemed like one of those white guys who dropped the n-word on Call of Duty because no one knew they weren’t black.

But Johnny had other boyfriends, and Peter had liked them well enough, so he wasn’t homophobic.

Right?

Soon enough, Johnny dumped Frankie after two weeks, and Andrew was gone before Frankie, after he tried to move in with them.

But now, Harry hung around with Johnny, and Harry and Peter were friends. Good friends, in a way that your dad’s friend trying to kill you brings you closer—although Harry didn’t know Peter was Spider-Man. Even Johnny didn’t know that Peter and his precious best friend Spidey were the same person. Ned, MJ, Flash, Miles, and Gwen knew, and Tony, but that was too many people already. Some nights, that was all he worried about, who knew who Spider-Man really was, who would tell _The Daily Bugle_ and who wouldn’t.

He was jealous of Johnny, sometimes, that everyone loved him, that everyone knew his name. Being Johnny Storm wasn’t weaponized against the Human Torch, and neither was being gay. If Spider-Man was gay, Jameson would have a field day with it.

Johnny got to be himself, and Peter got to be secretly angry at his boyfriends and hook-ups. It was the way things worked, in their apartment, with its thin walls and constant rotation of people filtering through the door. Hell, Johnny’s security guards lived across the hall, to make sure no crazy fans came and tried to pay Johnny a visit. They gathered outside the building’s door, sometimes, with cardboard signs with _I LOVE YOU JOHNNY_ printed in big letters. Their apartment faced the alleyway, thankfully, and a fire escape connecting to Peter’s window. Most nights, he slipped out the window to patrol for baddies, although the press after dragged his name through the dirt.

Like most nights, he pried open his window and scaled the wall, avoiding the windows. He had made that mistake once, and the elderly lady two floors above them nearly had a heart attack because of it.

He went to the Statue of Liberty, to meet the Human Torch, per usual, and to eat cheap hotdogs and talk about Johnny’s love life, per usual. This time, he snuck onto the back of a late-night ferry, sneaking back off when it stopped to marvel at Lady Liberty.

Scaling the base was easy, because it was always easy. And it wasn’t raining and less slippery than previous Fridays nights. The rain was the worst, really, combined with the height, but the promise of hotdogs and Johnny forced him to keep climbing, every night.

Peter had a lot to think about, as he climbed. First, he thought about Andrew. Fucking Andrew, the dullest person Peter had ever met, but Johnny had still liked him. He talked to Peter like Peter was a first grader learning to read, and yeah, maybe being Spider-Man got in the way of college, but he wasn’t an idiot, and frankly, half the things Andrew said were wrong. Once, Andrew had said _Luke, I am your dad,_ and Peter almost threw hands with him.

He knew that it wasn’t just Andrew’s personality, though. It was the way Johnny had looked at Andrew when Andrew wasn’t looking, and that had made Peter angry. So angry he avoided Johnny for two weeks, locking himself in his room and eating dinner alone, even though they watched movies on Wednesday nights, always, and binged _Grey’s Anatomy_ on Sundays. Peter had even watched the plane crash episode of Grey’s without Johnny on their stupid shared account on Netflix, because they had three profiles—Peter, Johnny, and Together. Johnny had wanted to name it “Jeter,” but Peter had shot that down quickly. Jeter was like they were a couple, which they weren’t. Andrew and Johnny had been a couple. Frankie and Johnny had almost been a couple. Now Harry and Johnny were a couple, and Peter wondered if they would make a joint profile together on Netflix. Jarry, they could call it. Or Stormborn, or Honny, which sounded so fucking stupid.

Peter kept climbing, practically shaking with rage at the thought of logging onto Netflix tonight and seeing a Stormborn profile next to “Together.” He kind of wanted to sock Harry in the mouth, or yell at him the next time he came over to fuck Peter’s roommate.

There were times where Peter really, _really_ wondered if he was homophobic. He must be, to hate all of Johnny’s boyfriends, although the first couple of guys were perfectly nice. He had liked Derek, Jeremy and Kyle well enough. He had barely tolerated Evon, barely because his name was fucking Evon and Evon tended to refer to himself in the third person. _Evon enjoys the pizza. Evon would like to go to the bed and breakfast with John. Evon thinks that your roommate is a twat_. He always, always called Johnny _John_, like they were business associates or something.  
Peter really got along with Trevor, who Johnny had gone out with four months. Trevor was really cool, and he liked the pictures Peter took, and the movies Peter picked out. Trevor and Peter tended to sit next to each other and whisper jokes during movie night, while Johnny sat next to Peter and huffed, arms crossed. Once, Johnny asked Peter if he had feelings for Trevor, and Peter said _no, why would you think that?_ and Johnny dumped Trevor the next day. Peter had been more upset about it than Johnny was.

The guy after Trevor was Wallace, and Wallace was fucking weird. Then it was Isaac, and man, did Peter have a grudge against Isaac. Isaac ate all of Peter’s cereal, stole his best friend for eight months, wouldn’t pay for his share of the laundry, used Peter’s profile on Netflix, used Peter’s couch blanket, sat in Peter’s spot on the couch, stole Peter’s Chinese leftovers, didn’t finish a single piece of pizza _ever,_ never put the new toilet paper on the holder, and his small, yappy dog shit on the carpet. Multiple times, which Isaac never cleaned up. Worst of all, he made Johnny moan like a virgin. Every. Single. Night.

Peter went on patrol for eight months straight, just so he wouldn’t have to hear Johnny cry out Isaac’s name.

Isaac was sort of the reason why Peter wondered if he was homophobic. A Good Straight Roommate would ignore the loud sex and put a pillow over his head, and Peter was enraged that it was _Isaac_ who had been in Johnny’s boyfriend. A Good Straight Roommate didn’t hate his roommate’s boyfriends and hookups with a passion. A Good Straight Roommate was civil to the men his roommate brought home.

Peter was not a Good Straight Roommate. He was a Terrible Straight Roommate. He would probably go down in history as the Worst Roommate Ever.

Soon enough, he was at Lady Liberty’s crown, after taking a small break to perch on her nose like a cat. He watched as Johnny flew towards him, hands full. Johnny was always so graceful when he flew, like nothing could bother him. He was unstoppable, when he flew, but tonight he didn’t burn, probably knowing how much Spider-Man hated when his hotdog was charred. Peter lifted up his mask so his mouth was exposed while Johnny showed off, twirling in the air like a ballerina.

“Gimme a sec,” Johnny says, and he sets the hotdogs down and flys into the air, letting himself burn out. Peter wondered if it felt good, when he burned out, like releasing endorphins. He watched Johnny burn for a few more minutes before coming back to their spot, and Peter held out his hotdog.

“Thanks, man,” Johnny says, and he wolfs the hotdog down. Peter chose to take his time, knowing the way back home would easily upset his stomach.

“So, how was—” Peter starts, but Johnny interrupts.

“So, I’m seeing this guy,” Johnny says, and then he paused. Peter nods for him to continue. “He’s my type, so my type, but I’m interested in someone else.”

Peter’s stomach jumps, and he figures that he just felt bad for Harry. Harry’s one of his best friends. He just feels bad for Harry.

“Oh?” Peter says, urging him to continue after he finished the last bite of his hotdog. He wants to suggest they go get another, together. He wanted to suggest a lot of things.

“Really, two other guys, that I’m into,” Johnny says, and he looks at Peter. Peter’s stomach does front flips in his abdomen. _Maybe my hotdog was bad,_ Peter thinks.

“So what are you gonna do?” Peter asks. “About the guy you’re seeing.”

“I don’t know _what_ to do,” Johnny says miserably. “The guy I’m seeing, he’s, uh, he’s really good friends with the guy I really like.”

Peter’s stomach drops and he feels like throwing up. Johnny was seeing Harry, and Harry only had two friends—him and Flash, and Johnny couldn’t like Peter. It just didn’t make any sense. The only answer was Flash. Johnny, perfect Johnny with the many, many boyfriends and hookups, liked Flash. Fucking Flash.

Peter kind of wanted to swing over to Flash’s apartment with a trusty butter sock and whale on him.

Peter swallows his pride and askes: “What about the other guy?”

Johnny smiles that soft, loving smile and Peter feels angry. Really angry. It makes Peter wonder if there was some sort of therapy he could go to so he could control his homophobia, or something. He really needed to get the fuck over it.

“He’s in the business,” Johnny says, and he looks at Peter like a love-struck teenager. Peter wants to throw this other guy into a wall.

God, he’s in the business. He’s probably an Avenger, or a minor one. But who would Johnny like enough to tell Spider-Man about? Not Iron Man, mainly because that would be weird as fuck. Dr. Banner wasn’t his type, and Bucky’s been in Wakanda too long. The first Cap retired, Miss Romanoff was seeing someone, Miss Danvers was off in space.

Of course. _Of-fucking-course._

“It’s Captain America, isn’t it?” Peter says. His shit hot dog churned in his stomach, but he ignored it and pressed on. “Not Steve, but Sam. Sam Wilson.”

Johnny looked really confused, and they sat for a little bit, staring at each other. Then he smiles and says: “Yeah man, you got it.”

Peter pulled his mask down and started climbing down Lady Liberty, practically leaping to get down, ignoring Johnny’s protests, and he sulked the whole way home, sticking to the side of a large yacht, just wanting to go home. He wanted to kick Flash’s ass, mostly, and Captain Wilson’s too.

He really needed to get over this whole homophobic thing, and soon, because Johnny would start bringing one of them home after he dumped Harry. Maybe both, and maybe at the same time. Peter could go back to living with Aunt May, in Brooklyn, if it got too bad. He felt sick, that he felt this way. That he hated Flash and Captain Wilson this much, for catching Johnny’s eye. The mere thought of Johnny touching Flash’s chest, kissing him, cuddling him, _loving_ him was too much. He lifted his mask to vomit, but nothing came up. He still felt sick, really sick.

It was then a drunk girl leaned over the rail and spotted him.  
“Spider-Man?” she whispers.

He looked up and pulled his mask down instinctively. She waves him up, and not knowing why, he climbed up from the slick side of the boat.

“Are you alright?” she asks. There was a glass of champagne in her hand, and Peter was reminded of the champagne he and Johnny had drunken, celebrating Meredith and Derek’s post-it wedding.

“No,” he tells her. “I’m not feeling too good.” She tugs on his hand and brings him to the floor, placing her glass down on the deck.

“If you get seasick, taking a ride on a boat wasn’t a good idea,” she says, and her words don’t slur anymore. She’s nice, this drunk girl.

“It’s not that,” says Peter. “It’s just, my roommate, he’s got all of these guys rotating in and out of our apartment. At first, it was chill, but now whenever he brings them up, or when they’re over, I just get _so_ angry.”

She nods wisely, and she smiles, a smile like she’s figured something out. “Maybe you should tell these guys to back off of him.”

“But he’s not mine,” Peter argues, and he leans over her to grab her drink. He lifts his mask and drains the champagne. She leaves for a second and comes back with a bottle of champagne, placing it into Peter’s gloved hand. He takes a long drink, so long his lungs hurt and he feels woozy.

“Most boys we love aren’t ours, you know,” says the girl, and he nods without question.

“I don’t love him, though,” Peter says. “He—we’re just friends.”

“Whatever you say, Spider-Man,” says the girl, and she swipes the bottle from him.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Jessica,” she says. “Jessica Drew.”

“Jessica Drew,” he says. “I’d tell you my name, but it ruins the whole cover thing.”

“No problem, dude,” says Jessica. “So, anyways, what are you gonna do about those other two guys?”

“I really don’t know,” Peter says, and he puts his face into his hands. The ship starts to pull into port, and the empty bottle rolls on the deck. He watches it for a minute, transfixed. “They just make me so angry, you know? And I can’t control it.”

“You could speak to them,” Jessica suggests. “Maybe not tonight, but—”

“That’s a great idea,” Peter blurts out, and he leaps up. “I’ll go right now.”

“That’s really not what I meant,” Jessica says, but he swings over the railing of the boat and runs off the dock, using the closest apartment building to swing himself into the air. The trip takes twenty minutes, mostly because the alcohol running through his veins makes him sluggish.

Captain Wilson had a great penthouse overlooking Central Park, and Peter stands on the balcony, fists clenched. He knocks on the glass door, and rather rudely, too, before a sleepy Bucky opens the door, rubbing his eyes.

“I thought you were in Wakanda,” Peter says, and Bucky says: “Yeah, nice to see you too, kid.”

“I need to speak to Captain America,” Peter says, and he crosses his arms over his chest. He trips over his own feet slightly but catches himself before Bucky can notice. Hopefully

Bucky rolls his eyes and yells: “Birdie, you’ve got a visitor!”

“Why can’t we have a regular night like a normal couple?” Captain Wilson yells back, and he comes to the door. He’s only got pajama bottoms on and he hasn’t shaved. Also, his chest is very, very defined, which Peter isn’t going to think about. He looks mad, but Peter is ready for this. Even though fighting him is extremely homophobic, he’s ready. He puts his fists up and Bucky raises his eyebrows.

“You might want to move, Mr. White Wolf, this doesn’t concern you,” Peter says, hopping from foot to foot. “This is between me and _him_.”

Bucky laughs and steps to the side, and Peter swings at Captain Wilson. His fist lands nowhere near his opponent, and instead he finds his hand lodged in the glass window. He watches as the glass spiderwebs, his hand being the only thing holding it together. His mouth falls open as he watches, and he can hear Captain Wilson telling Bucky that he isn’t allowed to hurt children.

“I’m twenty-two,” Peter says, and then he faints.

He dreams about the beach. MJ is there, laying next to him, in a red bikini with one of her sweatshirts over it. This one is a muted green, and it a crewneck, really. The lettering is too faded for him to read, and he hasn’t got his glasses. She continues to read her book and he lays on his towel, staring straight up at the sky.

The ocean is loud, and he remembers that he doesn’t like the beach. There’s sand in his trunks, and in the water, he sees Ned and Flash splashing each other. They’re accidentally touching each other to much for it to be friendly. Harry is with them, crossing his arms, and Flash tackles him into the waves.

Peter waves to Uncle Ben when he walks by, holding a copy of _The Dailey Bugle_. Uncle Ben waves back and Peter watches as he walks off into a red horizon. He wonders where Uncle Ben is going.

MJ taps him on the shoulder with her book, and points as Gwen approaches them. She grins, because she’s Gwen-freaking-Stacey and she’s perfect.

“Do you ever wonder what’s beyond the Great Beyond, Petey?” Gwen asks, and he wakes up before he can answer.

“Peter,” says a voice. A mad voice. Peter doesn’t want to open his eyes, but he does anyways. Captain Wilson and Bucky are leaning over him, a frown on Captain Wilson’s face, a blank expression on Bucky’s.

“How do you know my name?” Peter asks, and he reaches to pull his mask down. It’s not there, and neither is his suit.

“Kid, I’m Captain America. I know everything about everyone,” says Captain America.

“And you told us, a few years ago. Went around introducing yourself with your full name when Tony took you into the team,” says Bucky.

“Where’s my suit?” Peter asks. “And my pack.”

“What are you, blind? Right next to you, kid,” says Bucky, and Peter sits up to draw his backpack to his chest like a lifesaver.

“I’d like to go home, now,” Peter says, but Captain Wilson stops him.

“Peter, why did you try to fight me?” he asks. Peter is sort of angry, now. How could he not know?

“You’re—you’re the one,” Peter stammers, then he notices the matching bands on Captain Wilson’s and Bucky’s left ring fingers. “Oh, Jesus Christ. Fucking hell.”

“Told you so,” Bucky says to Captain Wilson.

“I’ve got to go,” Peter mumbles, and he shoves his suit into his pack hastily as he walks out of their penthouse. He feels like an idiot, for assuming that Johnny liked Captain Wilson, that he was the second of the other guys. Who wouldn’t like Captain Wilson, with his smile and jokes and his eyes, you could just get lost in them. And his muscles, god his muscles. If Peter liked men, he would be head over heels for Captain Wilson.

So, it was four in the morning, and Peter hadn’t known. Four in the morning was still loud, in the city, and drunk people wandered the streets.

As he hailed a cab to take him home, he made a list. Frankly, it was a short list, but it was still a list.

1\. He hated all of Johnny’s boyfriends and hook ups(except in the beginning).

2\. He had wanted to hurt Captain Wilson and Flash. And Harry. Especially Harry.

3\. He felt weird when Johnny talked, like he was going to be sick.

4\. He thought about Johnny a lot, like more than the normal thinking one does about their gay roommate.

5\. He was angry that men liked Johnny?

The taxi took him home, and he went over his list in his head. Johnny’s choices in men were awful. Purely awful. He wasn’t truly sure why he wanted to hurt Captain Wilson and Flash—probably the whole homophobic thing. When Johnny talked to him, especially about the guys he like, Peter always felt like he was going to be sick, sick as a dog, although the hot dog he had had could also be a factor. He did think about Johnny a lot, he supposed, but so would anyone else, granted that their roommate was Johnny freaking Storm. He was a hard person to not think about. Once Johnny Storm was in your head, it was hard to get him out of it. He figured that he was angry that men liked him partly because he may be homophobic, and that Johnny was giving other men the attention Peter wanted from Johnny.

It was a confusing mess, and he still wasn’t completely sure if he was being homophobic. He worried about it constantly, though.

It took thirty minutes to get back home, and Peter gave the driver all of his cash on accident, save for a one-dollar bill MJ had drawn a heart with a “J” inside of it. He always wondered why she had forgotten the “M,” although she had given it to him three weeks after they broke up, almost like her blessing.

But who was “J?”

Johnny was up when Peter unlocked the door, sitting on their couch, staring daggers at the door.

“Where have you been?” Johnny demanded. “_What_ are you wearing?”

“One second,” Peter mumbles, stumbling into his room and throwing his pack under his bed. He looked at himself in the mirror, realizing he had on pink Hello-Kitty pajama pants and a NY tourist shirt. He looks absolutely stupid, but he’s too tired to change.

“Peter!” Johnny yells from the living room, and Peter winces. His head throbs slightly, and he walks out of his room to sit with Johnny. He feels like pure shit and opens his mouth to tell Johnny he just wants to go to bed, but Johnny wraps him in a hug before he can.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Johnny whispers into his hair, and Peter hugs him back. Peter’s blanket is the only one on their couch—Johnny must’ve been using it while he waited for Peter to come home. Johnny’s pillow is also on the couch, and Johnny lies down. On instinct, Peter lied next to him, even though its squished and they have to spoon to be comfortable. Johnny falls asleep right away, but Peter stays awake for a few minutes more, listening to the steady drum of Johnny’s chest. Finally, he closes his eyes, Johnny’s heartbeat lulling him to sleep.

Johnny Storm is in love. Like a real love, not a puppy love, with the guy who fell asleep in his arms at four forty-five am, and with the hero who he meets at the Statue of Liberty every Friday night, hotdogs in hand. He is _not_ in love with Harry Osborn, but for the record, Harry Osborn isn’t in love with him either. Harry likes Flash, who likes Ned, who isn’t interested in either of them, romantically speaking.

Johnny wakes up with his nose in Peter’s soft hair, and his arms wrapped around Peter like a vine. Johnny raises his arm from Peter’s side, but Peter mumbles and snuggled closer into Johnny. His back is muscular, really muscular. It reminds Johnny of Spider-Man, not that Johnny spends a lot of time staring at Spidey’s back. Or his chest. Shoulders. Thighs. His mouth when his mask was pulled up.

No, Johnny _definitely_ didn’t spend precious time staring at Spidey.

Peter mumbles and turns around, so that he and Johnny are chest-to-chest. He’s still asleep, but he’s always been a deep sleeper, to have slept through Johnny’s many, _many_ attempts to make peter jealous via loud sex.

Johnny’s plans had backfired, in the beginning, because Peter had liked Derek, Jeremy, and Kyle well enough, and he and Trevor were like best friends. When Trevor was still around, Johnny had been jealous of Trevor, who was supposed to be his boyfriend, but the way Peter looked at him was more than friendly. Johnny had resented Trevor, who was nice and kind and funny, so Johnny dumped Trevor and started going out with terrible people, just to see how Peter would react. Evon was the fucking worst. Johnny hated Evon, like hated him more than Peter did, and Peter couldn’t stand him. Frankie had just been plain annoying, and Andrew was boring, but boring in a dependable way. He could have liked Andrew, if his day job wasn’t saving the city from baddies. Maybe if he worked as an accountant, or something.

Isaac was…well. Isaac was the worst decision Johnny had ever made, because Peter shut him out for eight straight months. Even when Isaac wasn’t over, Peter ate in his room, watched shows they both liked by himself, stayed out with his friends longer.

He wanted to tell Peter how he felt, but there was a slight problem.

Spider-Man.

Being with Spidey always made Johnny smile He couldn’t help it—Web Head was sarcastic, funny, nice, a great hero, and Johnny’s best friend. At first, he had hoped that Peter and Spider-Man were the name person, but them he figured that he would know if his roommate of four years was his masked best friend, who liked hotdogs that weren’t charred and swung around the city with webs he designed himself. He and Peter had met the first day of college—being dormmates would do that to you. Peter dropped out during their second year and got himself an apartment. Johnny moved in the summer after finishing sophomore year and they’ve lived together ever since. Why Peter dropped out from freaking Columbia, Johnny would never know, but he had a great job with Tony Stark and took pictures for _The Daily Bugle_.

He also didn’t treat Johnny like he was anything but normal. Peter was good, that way. He saw Johnny as a person, not as a god, like everyone else. He had bought him ice cream to cheer him up when Kyle leaked Johnny’s nudes and watched _Mean Girls_ whenever Johnny asked, even though Peter was sick of watching it. But Spidey had saved his ass so many damn times and was the one person he told everything to. He loved both Spidey and Peter, which tended to make life hell, like when Spidey got hurt or when Peter didn’t come home. Neither of them likes guys, which is also an issue. Really, it’s a pressing issue, because Johnny loves them both so much it gets hard to breathe, sometimes. He loves them both so much he can’t think about anything else most of the time, even when he and Spidey are taking down a new villain. Last time they battled with the Sandman; Johnny caught himself looking at Spidey more than he looked at his opponent. He had wanted to kiss him, after that fight, but Spidey said he had to run, and Johnny never got the chance.

Peter’s nose is pressed into Johnny’s chest, his arm resting on Johnny’s side. Peter has always been cuddly, when he’s tired, and Johnny pokes him in the chest to wake him up.

“Hey,” Peter says, and his voice is his let-me-sleep voice, all raspy and sexy.

“Hey yourself,” Johnny says, and Peter sits up and yawns, arms stretching to the sky. He ruffles Johnny’s hair and grins. Johnny tries to not blush, because Peter is really, really pretty when he’s looking at Johnny like that. Johnny sits up too, but his legs are still in Peter’s area of the couch. He’s got this urge to kiss Peter right now, like he would do, if they were dating. If they were together, like Johnny wants them to be.

“I’m gonna go visit Gwen today,” Peter says, and Johnny gives him a hug. Peters head rests on his shoulder and his hands grip Johnny’s arm.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Johnny asks, and Peter shakes his head _no_.

“I’ll be alright,” Peter says, and then he sighs, leaning into Johnny like he doesn’t want to leave their embrace. But he does, and its hard for Johnny, to watch him go, but Peter always goes.

Johnny doesn’t know how to ask him to stay.

Not that Peter would want to stay, but it’s hard to not dream about it. Waking up on a Sunday morning, their legs intertwined. They’d have a cat. A kid, in Johnny’s room, because Peter’s room had the cool fire escape. And a kid could climb out there, too, and Johnny kind of wanted to kiss Peter on the fire escape. Late at night, with a blanket so it’d be comfy. Maybe it’d be more than kissing.

Johnny could kiss Peter for hours, if Peter wanted to kiss him back.

With Spidey, it would be hot make outs in alleys. If Spidey was into it, they’d do it up on the Statue of Liberty, mainly because Johnny has fantasied about it way too much. Sometimes, he was there with Spidey _and_ Peter. That’s what he thought about when Isaac had touched him, most times, or he thought about Peter listening to him moan as he rode Isaac. He had never thought about Isaac when they fucked, only Peter and Spidey. He sometimes wondered if Peter and Spidey had ever been together, since they were friends, but he got the feeling that they were both straight, which really sucked. It would suck even more if they were dating, though, so at least they weren’t together.

He watched as Peter leaves the apartment, waving goodbye to Johnny, who’s still sitting on the couch, thinking about Peter with his shirt off.

He calls Sue and she comes over, holding Valeria in her arms. Franklin is with his dad, she tells him, and Valeria touches Johnny’s cheek with her sticky baby hand.

“So, whats up?” Sue asks, bouncing Valeria up and down.

“I’m in love with Peter,” he says, and he sits back down on the couch.

“I know that, Johnny,” Sue says, and she sets Valeria down on the couch next to her, pulling some sort of toy from her purse and passing it to her child. “Is this about you liking Peter and Spider-Man? Because we could’ve talked about this over the phone. And I think you only love one person, hothead, if you really think about it.”

Johnny tugs on his lip with his teeth, and Sue sighs. “Honestly, Johnny, I’ve seen the way Spidey looks at you. I think you should go for it.”

“But he’s straight,” Johnny protests. “Like, really straight.”

Sue rolls her eyes and picks up Valeria again. “Johnny, c’mon. I’ll buy you an early lunch.”

Gwen is in Brooklyn, so Peter takes the subway. The ride is only fifty minutes, plus or minus, nd he stops to get flowers before going to see her. He’s not sure what kind of flowers they are, but they’re pretty, yellow and pink and red and white. She would like them.

The cemetery is quiet. There’s a young man, holding the hand of a little girl, standing over someone’s grave, but they leave two minutes after Peter arrives. He knows the way to Gwen’s grave like the back of his hand. Gwen rests next to one of the few trees in the cemetery, and Peter leans against the trunk, closing his eyes for a minute. He wished she was here, to scold him or yell at him or hug him. He needed her to help him work out his feelings, because he really couldn’t do it himself. Everything was so complicated, and he _needed_ her to uncomplicate it. He needed his best friend.

He can hear someone walking up to him as he removes the plastic wrapping from Gwen’s flowers. The person—a young woman, walks past him to stand at a grave three spaces down. He thinks that he knows her from somewhere, but he can’t remember where.

She looks at him as he crumples the plastic up, and it hits him. The girl from the boast, last night. Jessica Drew. She’s pretty, Jessica Drew, with long dark hair and an oval-shaped face.

“So, you’re Spider-Man, right?” she says, and she kicks at the grass absently.

“What?” Peter asks. “I’m not Spider-Man. No way.”

Jessica rolls her eyes and huffs. “It took me a long time to figure out, you know. You’re Peter Parker, who takes great shots of Spider-Man, even down in the subway, and especially when there’s a big fight. I’ve always wondered how you did it: then I thought, what if Spider-Man is the one taking the pictures? So, I did my research. You live with Johnny Storm, who’s been seen partnering up with Spider-Man on numerous occasions, and your coworkers say that you come into work looking like you’ve been in a fight all the time. You also work for Tony Stark, who’s taken in Spider-Man like a foster child.” She crossed her arms and looked very smug. “So, it’s you.”

Peter means to say no, but he says: “You can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t,” says Jessica. “No one would believe me anyways, you’re a nerd.”

Peter huffs. “Yeah, well people wouldn’t believe that you’re Spider-Woman.”

“Pity,” she says. “Cause I am.” Then she walks away, leaving nothing at the grave of the person she was visiting. Peter gets up from his seat on the ground and walks over to look at the grave. There’s nothing on it except for a name—Jared. He wonders who Jared is, to Jessica Drew. He could look into her life, like she looked into his, but he was too lazy to hack S.H.E.I.L.D again.

He left the cemetery, changing into his suit in a dark alley. He wanted to swing home, feel the air against his face, but first, he stops by Miles’ apartment building, just to check on him. The kid is drawing, per usual, listening to a loud song, per usual. Peter crawls down the building and makes his way to the Brooklyn Bridge, and he can see Johnny flying towards him. They sit at the top of one of the stone arches.

“I have to tell you something,” Peter blurts out. He doesn’t mean to say it. He really, _really_ doesn’t mean to say it.

“Yeah, me too,” Johnny says, and he rests his chin in his knees, which are pulled up to his chest.

“My real name, its—”

Then Peter gets punched in the face. He stumbles back, a bit, nearly falling from the arch. Johnny catches him, and they both stare at Doc Oc with open mouths.

“Sorry to interrupt, lovebirds,” says Doc Oc, and one of the weird metal arms reaches for Peter’s neck. Peter catches it and rips the grabbing hand off, live wire exposed. Johnny lights up, but Doc Oc won’t burn. They have to do this the regular way, then.

Peter webs two of Doc Oc’s arms together, and they flap around like a fish out of water. Three arms down, five to go. Johnny grabs one and physically pulls it off, tossing it into the water below, but they both watch as a new arm grows in its place.

“Gotta love technology,” Peter mutters as the grabber he tore grows back, and his webs are cut with small whirring blades. Doc Oc advances, and Johnny flames up, again. Doc Oc only laughs and continues forward.

“Hello, boys,” Jessica says, and she hits Doc Oc from behind. Doc Oc stumbles, and Peter kicks him in the stomach. While Doc Oc is down, Johnny tears off the battery pack from which the arms are connected too. He places his hand inside and burns the controls. The mechanical arms stop moving and droop to the side, but Doc Oc still stands on the arch. Peter looks down to see SH.E.I.L.D. vehicles below, and he grins.

“Seems that you’ve lost,” Johnny says, arms crossed and face smug.

“I never lose, freak,” Doc Oc says, and then he pulls out something. One of the mechanical arms is functional, damn it. Johnny doesn’t realize what it is until Doc Oc is pointing it at Peter.

The first shot makes Peter stumble, and Jessica screams “Peter!” he’s worried that she’s crying. He doesn’t want her to cry. The next sends him down into the waves. Peter hears the shot after the bullet is already lodged in his chest, and he’s falling. _Never stand with your back to the water, Peter_ Gwen says in his head. He closes his eyes, because it hurts to keep them open. He can hear Jessica yelling his name, and he hopes that she’s alright. He opens his eyes and Johnny is dropping towards him, but Peter cannot bring himself to care, the pain is too much. It rips through his insides like a knife, and he knows that his heart is working overtime and that his breath is shallow. He goes to check his own pulse but blacks out before he does.

He wakes up in a bed, choking on a tube running down his throat. Someone yells, and Bruce comes in, removing the tube and whispering to him that he’s alright.

“Is my mask on?” Peter whispers.

Bruce nods. “Don’t worry. Your friend Torch was insistent that it be kept on.”

Peter swallows and nods. “Where’s Flame Brain?” he asks, and then Johnny is there, he’s right there.

“You’re an idiot, Web Head,” Johnny says, but he’s crying, his hears dripping onto Peter’s gown.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks, and Johnny nods.

Spidey’s voice reminds him of Peter’s morning voice, all raspy and sexy. On the flight to the Avengers Compound, Peter’s morning voice was all he could think about. Peter hadn’t been home after Johnny had dropped Spidey off at the Compound and gone home, shaking and crying. He had laid down is Peter’s bed and stolen one of Peter’s sweatshirts and then flown back, earing Peter’s sweatshirt like a security blanket.

“Why do you have on my—I mean Peter’s sweatshirt?” Spidey asks, and Sue’s voice rings in his head.

_ I think you only love one person._

“Peter,” Johnny breathes out, and then he pushes up Spider-Man’s mask. His roommate looks back at him, with a new bruise on his cheekbone. Pete’s eyes are wide, questioning, concerned. He’s waiting fo Johnny to say something, Johnny realizes, but Johnny can’t. He can’t do this right now, with his roommate of four years, his best friend of six years.

_ I think you only love one person._

_one person._

Spider-Man and Peter Parker are the same person.

Johnny leaves the Compound and goes to his family. Sue is home, and she looks at him quizzingly. He ignores the look on her face and goes to his old room, which they use as a guest room, now.

Peter begins to cry, when Johnny leaves. Really cry, sobs racking his body, and then Jessica is there, her hand on his shoulder.

“Peter, please, you’ll rip your stitches,” she says, and he tries to stop sobbing, but the thought of Johnny leaving was too much.

“I ruined everything,” he tells her, and she climbs into his hospital bed, holding him close. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Jess, I just, he’s,” he begins to hiccup, and a nurse brings in water when Jessica presses the button. He drinks it, hands shaking, and Jessica runs her fingers through his hair. “He’s never going to like me again,” he says miserably.

“Peter, he _loves_ you,” Jess says seriously.

“He makes me feel weird,” Peter says. “Really weird. My stomach like, freaks out when he’s around, and I freaking hate his boyfriends. They’re all terrible, and I’m pretty sure I’m homophobic or something.”

Jess laughs and pulls him closer to her, her fingers unknotting his unruly hair. “Peter, you’re jealous,” she says, like she’s a detective and she’s cracked the case.

“Jealous of what?” he asks, and she tells him to think on it. He falls asleep in her arms, wondering what the hell he had to be jealous about.

They discharge him four days after, and Dr. Banner tells him that the stitches would dissolve by themselves when his body was ready, and Jess drove him home in her ratty black car.

Johnny wasn’t in the apartment when Jess opened the door, and he didn’t come home for a week. Peter had a lot of time to think, between watching _Keeping Up with the Kardashians_ with MJ when she came over and his aunt’s visits to make chicken noodle soup and deliver scolding’s for getting shot. He still couldn’t figure out what he was jealous of, like Jess said, and she wouldn’t tell him when he asked. Ned and Flash stopped by too, and they played many, many hours of video games. MJ brings Miles along with her one day, and Peter helps Miles with his physics homework and they talk about the pretty girl in his History class.

But Peter was home by himself when Johnny and Harry stopped by. They were holding hands, and Peter felt sick.

“Hey, Pete,” Harry says, and Peter wants to strangle him. “We’re just here to get a few of Johnny’s things.” He looks at Johnny, who looks down at the floor.

“Harry.” Peter got off the couch and stalks to his room, which hurts his chest and stomach. It hurts to breathe, still—the second bullet had hit his left lung and gone straight through. Peter was very, _very_ lucky to be alive.

He grits his teeth and keeps walking, wondering why he didn’t accept the wheelchair. It’s a struggle to open his door, but he does it, practically collapsing on his bad. He hisses as his skin stretches, the stitching pulling.

Harry is at his bedroom door, looking nervous. “Hey, you alright?” he asks, and Peter huffs.

“No, I’m not alright,” Peter snaps. “Can you just leave me the hell alone?” Harry nods and practically flees from Peter’s room, and it hits Peter.

He’s jealous of _Harry_. He’s jealous of Harry because he’s with Johnny, because he gets to hold Johnny’s hand and kiss Johnny and fuck Johnny.

Peter has got to be the dumbest person on the planet. “Oh my god,” he groans out loud, and he grabs his phone from his pocket. He’s not the Terrible Straight Roommate anymore, he’s the Dumb Roommate. The Idiot Roommate. He paws for his wallet, to look at that stupid dollar bill MJ gave him.

He knows who ‘J’ is, now.

“So, you figured it out,” Jess says, arms crossed. He’s leaning against the hall wall in her building, mainly because the walk exhausted him. She picks him up bridal style, dropping him on the couch so she can go get snacks. She returns with a glass of water for Peter—with a straw, no less, and a family sized bag of chips.

“I don’t know what to do,” Peter mumbles. “Really, I have zero idea.”

Jess looks at him like he’s a sick puppy that’s just been kicked. “There’s not much you can do, if he’s got a boyfriend.”

“I could tell him how I feel,” Peter argues halfheartedly.

“You could do that,” Jess says. “But I think you should talk to him about the whole Spider-Man thing first.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter says, but he sends Johnny a text all the same, hoping that he answers. He _needs_ him to answer. He _needs_ him.

Johnny says: _wanna meet at the sol?_

He doesn’t say _our place_, like he usually would. Peter’s chest hurts, and not because of the painful recovery.

Peter writes back: _can’t make the climb tonite what about @ home?_

He waits five minutes, Jess peering over his shoulder, for Johnny’s response.

_okay_

She smiles and says: “That’s a good thing, right?”

Peter shrugs, because he isn’t sure, and he lets her drive him home. His stomach is uneasy, though.

Peter is nervous. Really, _really_ nervous. He doesn’t know what to say, when Johnny gets here, so he sits on the couch, wringing his hands together. Jess left an hour ago, making him a water bottle before she left. He asked her who Jared was, and as it turns out, Jared wasn’t a good guy, but she loved him. _My first love,_ she had said, and that made Peter think of Gwen.

His phone buzzes, and it’s Flash. _harry and johnny broke up_

_why?_

_johnny’s in love with someone else, he said, but then he kissed me_

_what about ned?_

_dunno. i still like him but i think i like flash and ned_

_happy for you bro_ Peter types, and then he shuts his phone. Johnny opens the door and smiles, but it doesn’t reach is eyes.

Peter swallows his nerves and says hello, and Johnny greets him back.

“How have you been?” Johnny asks.

_Good question Johnny! Turns out, I’m in love with you. So that’s how I’ve been._ Peter says: “I was thinking about it, and I think I got lucky.” Here’s the thing. Peter tends to blurt things out when he gets nervous, and Johnny makes him nervous. “Like, um, there was only one live arm, that day, so if there had been two, I think, um, I would’ve been screwed. I think four shots would’ve sucked; you know?”

Johnny laughs, an actual laugh, which was what Peter was hoping for. He sits down on their couch and hands Peter a sweatshirt. Peter takes it and realizes its his high school Debate Team sweatshirt. He looks at Johnny, and really, he should be asking why Johnny had it. He should be asking why Johnny took it, why Johnny wore it. He should be asking if Johnny feels the same way.

“You can keep it,” Peter says, and he thrusts it back at Johnny. It’s hard, to give it back, because it smells like Johnny and Peter wants to wrap himself in Johnny forever.

“Oh,” Johnny says, and then he puts in on over his FF suit. He looks really cute in it, and Peter wants to kiss him. Really wants to kiss him.

He doesn’t, because Johnny definitely doesn’t like him like that. Johnny likes fit guys, guys who drink those awful smoothies he likes, guys who know that they like guys before the ripe old age of twenty-two.

“So,” Peter says. “One to ten, how mad are you at me?”

“I don’t think I’m mad, anymore,” Johnny says. “I get why you hid your identity from me, but it just hurt that Spider-Woman knew and I didn’t. And when you almost died. That hurt too.”

“Couldn’t really control that part of it,” Peter jokes, but the look on Johnny’s face tells him that this isn’t a talk that needs Parker Jokes. He feels like a Terrible Roommate, all over again. “Johnny, I just, I was just worried, because you’re my best friend, you know? And I was scared that if you knew Spider-Man was really your geeky roommate you wouldn’t want to be friends anymore.” Peter doesn’t even want to be friends with Johnny right now. Peter wants to be more than friends, but that’s not something you say to Johnny Storm.

“You’re my best friend, Pete,” Johnny says, and he grabs Peter’s hand. Straight Peter would be unfazed, but In-Love-With-Johnny Peter has a weird feeling in his stomach.

Butterflies. Oh God. Peter has _butterflies_. It wasn’t the stupid hotdog. It was johnny, because it had always been Johnny.

“Are you moving out?” Peter asked. He didn’t want Johnny to move out, he wanted Johnny to stay and to hold him like he did the morning Peter was shot.

“Do you want me too?” Johnny asks, and Peter shakes his head. “Good,” Johnny asks, because I brought my stuff back.” Peter is so, so grateful that Johnny’s going to stay that he hugs him. It takes Johnny a few seconds, but he embraces Peter back.

“Wanna watch Keeping Up with the Kardashians?” Peter mumbled into Johnny’s chest. “I’ve been watching it a lot recently, and as it turns out, they’re complex people, each with their own personalities and issues. I’ve learned a lot about Kris, their leader. Then there’s Kim, who’s just agreed to—”

“Peter, shut up,” Johnny says, but he puts on the show anyways, Peter now using his lap as a pillow. It’s Wednesday night, after all, and they always watch something bad together and laugh about it afterwards on Wednesday nights.

They didn’t go to their place Friday night, but Johnny went out to get them hotdogs anyways. Peter’s stiches had dissolved, at least the ones holding his skin together. He wasn’t too sure about his stomach and spleen and left lung, but a man could hope.

“Hey,” Johnny says, finishing up his hotdog. “Remember when we got ambushed by Doc Oc?”

“And then I got shot?” Peter grins, happy that they can make jokes about what happened.

Johnny has his thinking face on, and Peter picks at his hotdog bun. “I shouldn’t have left you,” Johnny says.

“It’s alright,” Peter says, but Johnny is voicing what Peter has been thinking.

“No, Petey, it’s not,” Johnny says. “I’m really sorry. I should’ve been there for you.”

“I forgive you,” Peter says, and then Jess rings the bell, and they all sit down on the couch for a movie, Jess shooting Peter looks when Johnny isn’t paying attention.

She whisper-yells at him for not telling Johnny how he feels yet when Johnny leaves to grab something. Peter tells her that Johnny doesn’t like him like that, but Johnny comes back, wearing Peter’s Debate Team sweatshirt. Jess has a smug look on her face that says: _well, how do you explain_ that?

“Do you like Jess?” Johnny asks when she leaves.

“Yeah, she’s a really good friend,” Peter says, folding up his blanket.

Johnny grabs the blanket from Peter. “No, like, do you have a _crush_ on her, Petey.”

Peter begins to laugh. He laughs so hard that his stomach hurts and he has to sit down, and Johnny raises a perfect eyebrow at him.

“What?” Johnny demands.

“I don’t like Jess, Flame Brain,” Peter says, and then Johnny sits down next to him.

“Ok, cool,” Johnny mumbles.

“Do you like Jess?” Peter asks. Peter loves Jess, he does, but he might kill her if she’s caught Johnny’s eye.

“No, not like that,” Johnny says, and they look at each other for a minute before Peter turns away. “She’s really nice, though. I’m happy that she was—that she was there for you. When I wasn’t.”

“Johnny,” Peter says softly. He wants Johnny to lean in and kiss him. He wants a lot of things, it seems.

“I just, I just want you to know that I’m here for you know, Pete,” Johnny says seriously. Then he stands up and walks to his room to sleep, leaving Peter on the couch.

Peter says: “So, what’re we doing tonight?” and Johnny says: “I’ve got a date tonight, sorry.”

Sure, it hurts, that Johnny has a date tonight and Peter has plans with his right hand. He wishes Johnny was taking him out on a date. And he wishes that he and Johnny were together. He wishes a lot of things.

“What’re you gonna do, then?” Johnny asks. “I can cancel it, if you want to watch Keeping Up with the Kardashians.”

“It’s alright,” Peter tells him, but Peter’s never been a good liar. He hopes Johnny doesn’t catch him in this lie, but he also does. He hopes Johnny figures out that he likes—loves, really, loves Peter too and then takes Peter to his room to do dirty, dirty things.

“What time is your date at?” Peter asks.

“Six,” Johnny says. “We’re going to dinner and a movie.”

“Is he one of the guys you love?” Peter asks, because Peter is full of self-loathing.

Johnny shakes his head and says: “I’m trying to get over that, actually, so I’m hoping that he’s really great because, I need someone great.”

_I’m great,_ Peter thinks. _Use me._

“Anyways, I’ve got to go catch Sue and Richard and Ben for lunch,” Johnny says, and then he heads out the door. “I’ll see you later, Web Head.”

Peter nods and waves goodbye, falling dramatically onto the couch after Johnny leaves.

Six hours later, he’s having dinner with Jess and MJ, in Jess’s apartment. When Jess invited him over, he didn’t think that MJ was going to be here, but she was, her ankle casually intertwined with Jess’s ankle.

“So has everyone found love except for me?” Peter groans, stabbing his pasta with his fork. He had wanted pizza, but _no_ his stupid, dumb stomach was too sensitive for “hard foods.” He argued, for a little bit, telling her that he and Johnny had hotdogs last night. Then she asked him how much pain he had been in after, so he let her force him to eat pasta. It was alright.

Ok. Dinner was good and he didn’t like shitting his brains out afterwards, so maybe Jess was right. Maybe.

“If you confessed how you felt to Johnny, maybe you and he would be together, Peter,” MJ says, smiling at Jess. Jess smiled back. Which was gross and Peter now hated love.

“Johnny’s on a date right now, so,” Peter mumbles, aggressively twirling the pasta on his fork. “He’s trying to get over some guy, or something. I dunno.”

“I have wine,” Jess says, looking at Peter’s expression.

“Peter’s a lightweight,” MJ says eyeing him.

“Believe me,” Jess sighs, “I know.”

“I’m not a lightweight,” Peter protests.

Jess won’t let him have more than three glasses, but he feels woozy from that, and maybe he is a lightweight, because he says: “Let’s take a boat out on the river.”

“Where are we going to get a boat, tiger?” MJ asks.

“S.H.E.I.L.D.’s got a couple,” Jess suggests. “We could take one.” Before MJ can open her mouth to say how bad of an idea stealing a boat from the government is, Jess has her car keys in hand, eyes bright. “And alcohol barely works on me, so I can drive.”

“Clearly, it’s worked a great deal tonight,” MJ mutters, but she follows Jess and Peter down to the apartment’s garage all the same. Peter sat in the back of the car, and changed into his suit quickly, while Jessica pressed a button on her watch and her suit grew onto her body, under her clothes, save for her mask.

“Let’s go steal from the government,” MJ mutters, and Peter whoops, throwing his hands up.

It takes them two hours to get to the S.H.E.I.L.D. compound, and instead of slowing down to stop at the very thick metal gate, Jess pushes a button on the dash and the car transforms so that steel covers the front of the car. Then Jess turns the volume all the way up, and the car accelerates. They hit the gate head-on and clear it. On the compound, they’re greeted by enforced Range Rovers, each with machine guns attached to the top, aimed at their car.

“This is perfect,” MJ mutters, and then Nick Fury knocks on their window. Jess rolls it down manually and says: “Hello, Nick.”

“Miss Drew,” says Director Fury. “Step out of the car. Your friends, too.”

They follow instructions, and MJ has her hands up. Peter takes off his mask, knowing that a lot of the agents aiming their guns at him already know his name.

“What is the meaning of this, Miss Drew?” Nick Fury barks.

“We need a boat,” Jess says, and she crosses her arms.

“Why in the hell would I give the three of you a boat?” Nick asks. He sounds mad, Peter thinks, but he’s always mad. “And Mr. Parker, hasn’t your reputation been dragged through the dirt enough?”

“You owe me this,” Peter blurts out.

It takes Director Fury aback, and he raises his eyebrows for Peter to continue.

“You’re constantly ruining my summer vacations,” Peter says, and then Director Fury personally shows them to where they berth the boats.

Jess picks out a speedboat, and MJ decides to drive. MJ presses a button to cover the boat so that they wouldn’t get wet while exiting the berth via underwater, and the next thing Peter knows, they’re submerged. The boat comes up to the surface once they’ve cleared government waters, and MJ picks up speed after the covering recedes.

“Do you think that they’re kissing?” Peter asks, but he’s not really talking to either MJ or Jess, but they both look back at him anyways.

“Maybe,” Jess says, and he bites her lip. They’re going fairly fast, the boat jumping on waves and slamming down again, over and over.

“I don’t care anymore,” Peter decides, and then he puts the mask of his suit on. He makes his way to the front of the boat, and taking a deep breath that makes his lungs hurt, steps up onto the railing so that he’s standing on the tip of the speedboat. He extends his arms like he’s Rose from _The Titanic_, and he imagines the field day Jameson is going to have if anyone takes his picture right now. He’s never been so glad to be sticky, because otherwise he would’ve fallen off long ago. To show off, he backflips back onto the deck. MJ rolls her eyes at him.

“I’m in love with him,” Peter says, and MJ raises her eyebrow. Jess tosses Peter his jacket, a tan thing with a shit ton of pockets.

“Like how you were in love with Gwen, or like how you were in love with me?” MJ asks.

“It’s different,” Peter says. “Like I knew that I liked Gwen, and I knew that I had developed a crush on my best friend with you. But it’s, it’s different, because I didn’t know until I _knew,_ you know?”

Jess nods, and Peter lays down on the seats, looking up at the sky.

He points at a blue streak headed for the Statue of Liberty. “Hey, it’s Johnny,” Peter says, and MJ turns the boat so hard Peter almost falls out.

“You’re gonna tell him, tiger,” MJ says, gritting her teeth. “Or I’ll kill you myself, I swear to God.”

His name is Paul, and Johnny kind of hates Paul. Paul wants expensive-ass food for dinner, so Johnny pays three hundred for the smallest dinner he’s ever had. Paul wants to go see a boring-as-hell documentary, so they see the boring documentary. Johnny would’ve fallen asleep during it, but Paul kept whispering in his ear about it. And now, Paul wants to go see the Statue of Liberty, so that’s what they’re doing.

Johnny is considering dropping Paul into the water, see what he would want to do then. Maybe the plastic in the river would want to go see a documentary with Paul. As he flies, he watches a black speedboat turn and sprint for the Statue of Liberty.

Johnny’s holding Paul by the waist, but he’s really not enjoying the other man’s presence. He should’ve cancelled to watch shitty TV with Peter. Maybe he should tell Peter how he feels, so he can stop going on dates with guys like Paul.

Johnny lands on the crown, and he really doesn’t want to bring Paul here, to _their_ spot. He does anyways, and watches as Paul looks at the city with a gaping mouth. It’s a good view, for sure, but the one on his couch was better, looking at the guy who sits next to him and eats all the popcorn, who’s feet are fucking freezing, who’s the little spoon and who’s impatient and got shot twice and Johnny couldn’t even be there for him.

He’s still kicking himself, for not being there for Peter after Doc Oc put two bullets in his body, that he couldn’t think about him without being furious.

And now _Paul_ is here. Paul, who’s handsome and decently nice, who’s his date.

But Johnny cannot get Peter out of his head, he never can.

He never will.

Paul is talking, because people tend to do that, and Johnny turns to him, his mind made up.

Peter doesn’t feel any pain as he climbs up the statue. It’s the adrenaline, he thinks, combined with the wine. Combined with the strange feeling of courage. MJ has his coat, and Jess his phone, and Peter’s got his wits. He keeps going, keeps pushing, and he sees Johnny and some guy standing on the crown. Peter sticks to Lady Liberty’s hair and spies on them, moving to stay downwind.

Johnny turns to the guy and says “Paul, there’s something I have to tell you.”

Peter almost laughs. Johnny, perfect, loud, hot Johnny Storm is on a date with _Paul_. Paul is also wearing a trench coat in early June, like an idiot. Peter kind of wants to rip Paul’s coat off and smack him with it.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Paul asks, hands in his overly large pockets. Peter’s decided that Paul doesn’t believe in climate change.

“I’m in love with someone,” Johnny says. “And he’s so freaking great. He’s the best person I’ll ever know, but I’m here with you, trying to make him jealous, when he definitely doesn’t feel the same way.”

“I get it,” says Paul, and he chuckles. “Is it that guy you wouldn’t stop talking about? Peter? Your roommate?”

“Yeah.” Johnny breathes his answer out, like a lovestruck teenager.

Peter practically flies down the Statue of Liberty, his brain still not quite processing what Johnny had said _yeah_ to. The last thirty feet, he flings himself from the base and lands in the boat, making sure to duck and roll.

“His date’s name is Paul,” Peter says as MJ pulls out from the dock. “And he was wearing a trench coat, poor dude must’ve been so hot.”

“Petey, I’m sorry,” Jess says, handing Peter his jacket and his phone. Peter takes off his mask and gets out of his suit quickly. His stomach hurts, and it hurts to breathe, a bit.

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Peter says. His breathe begins to even out, and he runs his hands through his sweaty hair. “Feel sorry for this other guy, Peter. Johnny’s in love with him. They used to be roommates or something.

MJ turns around, letting the boat slip into autopilot. “Peter Parker, you’re the dumbest bitch I know,” she says, and Jess nods in agreement. “_You’re_ the Peter he’s in love with.”

“I have to get home,” Peter says, and MJ hits a very large red button. MJ puts Peter’s address in, and the boat makes a sharp turn. It converts into a faux police van when they come onto shore, sirens on and everything.

He’s home in fifteen minutes, and Jess picks him up like a baby and hauls ass up the stairs and to Peter’s apartment.

She places him down on the couch and tells him to make sure and take his meds, and then she leaves, hopefully to take the boat-turned-car back to S.H.E.I.L.D. He pulls out his phone and opens is Netflix app, hands slightly shaking.

Peter Parker is not a Terrible Straight Roommate. He’s not Johnny’s Straight Roommate at all.

Johnny gets home and Peter is on the couch. The air conditioning is on, and it always gets too cold, so Johnny grabs one of the blankets and places it onto Peter. Peter’s already in his pajamas, so Johnny goes to change so they can relax, and Johnny can complain about Paul.

He comes back out, and Peter’s holding the TV remote, his leg bouncing. He’s got the blanket over his legs, and Johnny realizes that it’s his blanket.

“Wanna watch Grey’s?” Peter asks, and Johnny nods, so Peter hands him the remote.

“Why do I have to pull it up?” Johnny complains. “You’ve already got the remote.”

“I got shot,” Peter says, so Johnny grumbles and does it.

He turns on the Xbox, and then goes to open Netflix, but its demanding that he logs into his Xbox account before opening an app. Peter seems really nervous, watching the screen with intensity as Johnny puts in his password.

Finally, _finally_ he opens up Netflix, and the familiar red letters show in the screen. Per usual, there’s three profiles—Johnny, Peter, and Together.

But ‘Together’ isn’t called ‘Together’ anymore, Peter’s changed the name.

Peter’s changed the name to SpideyTorch.

Johnny turns to look at him, trying not to smile, and Peter’s nervously picking fuzz off of the blanket.

“So, um, as it turns out,” Peter says. “I’m in love with you.”

Johnny is grinning so hard it feels like his face might fall off. “As it turns out,” Johnny says, leaning into Peter, “I’m in love with you too.” He leans into Peter even more, and Peter grabs his face and kisses him, ruining the sexy thing Johnny was going for, but that’s Peter. Impatient. The guy who eats all the popcorn and whose feet are freezing. The guy whose the little spoon and got shot twice and is _kissing Johnny back._

*  
_two weeks later_

“I still can’t believe you let Isaac’s dog shit on our carpet so you could use him to make me jealous,” Peter groans, flopping down on Johnny’s bed. “You know I had to pick the shit up, right?”

“I still can’t believe you had butterflies over me and blamed it on your hotdog,” Johnny teases, poking Peter in the thigh.

“Do you not remember Evon? Anything I’ve done cannot be worse than that guy,” Peter shoots back.

“You were jealous over all of my boyfriends and thought you were angry because you were homophobic!”

“You took _Paul_ to our spot.”

“You tried to fight Captain America.”

“I was defending your honor!”

“And then you got wine drunk and climbed up the Statue of Liberty to spy on me.”

“Alright, you win,” Peter grumbles. “But I really don’t see why you’d rather watch _Life of Kylie_ over _Keeping Up With the Kardashians_.”

“Kylies the best one, Web Head,” Johnny said, killing Peter’s cheek before getting out of bed.

“Actually, I’ve got the winning argument,” Peter calls as Johnny walks down the hall. Johnny comes back to where Peter is sitting up on his bad, smiles like he’s won the grand prize at the science fair.

“What is it?”

“You’ve been in love with me for six years and told _Paul_ before you told me.” Johnny groans and mumbles something about turning on Peter’s crappy show, and Peter follows his boyfriend to the couch, triumphant.

**Author's Note:**

> imma say it #fuckpaullives


End file.
